Wiggles the Clown
by sofellostyle
Summary: Wiggles the Clown x Reader (with Wiggles having some split personality at times acting like PJ) You are on your way home from work. It's cold, dark and you feel like shit. Suddenly you see a shadow near by and you hear a New Jersey accent speaking to you. Trigger warnings violence and assault


Wiggles the Clown

Your sore feet were aching as you walked down the hard and cold pavement. It felt as though your left heel was being pinched by a thousand needles and you had a blister under your right big toe. All you really wanted was to be home, back in your bed with a hot cup of steaming green tea. The bus that you usually took home from work had broken down 7 blocks from your bus stop, engine problems the bus driver had said with a half-hearted smile on his face. There weren't going to be another bus coming for over an hour, and you defiantly couldn't afford a taxi. Walking was your only option really. You passed the deli store on Glover-street, you know, the one with amazing garlic bread that always dripped with melted butter. The shop was dark and empty, just as the streets around you.

"-Hey you pal!" A thick, old school, New Jersey accent said from behind you. You turned around and froze in chock. From the yellow lit streetlight you saw a man, or rather, a clown. The makeup was messy, black around the eyes and looked cracked along the wide, red mouth.

"Do you mind?" the clown asked hinting down at a cigarette in his hand. You did in fact have a lighter on you, but you didn't want to stay any longer than necessary alone with this freak. Your hand clutched around the lighter in your pocket, becoming sweaty by your tight grip.

"Sorry, I don't have a lighter on me." you answered as you turned around and started walking, this time a little faster than you had before. You swore you could feel him starring at you as you walked away. Why did the fucking bus have to break just today? You just wanted to get home… A pair of hands ceased the collar of your thick winter coat, dragging you back before you even had a chance to understand what was happening. Your head smashed back into the hard and cold bricked wall next to the shop window of the sandwich-deli.

"Don't you know little girl" the clowns spat his words against your cheek "it's very, very, very rude to lie, especially to strangers." He took the cheap, plastic lighter from your pocket and lit his cigarette resting in the corner of his red painted mouth. He put back the lighter in your pocket and took a deep breath from the cigarette, blowing out the bitter smoke in your face. You would have normally coughed, but you were too afraid to move a single muscle.

"It's the clown makeup isn't it?" the clown asked you. His green eyes were soft, but the grip on your collar was still hard and forceful. "You should know that I'm not actually a clown, I'm an entertainer. And NO" he shouted, small beads of sweat forming on his white painted forehead, "I'm not dressed as the Joker" his voice was steady now, no sign left of the furious outbreak. "The name is Wiggles, Wiggles the clown." The clown grinned wide.

"P…p…please" you stutter.

"You were sayin somethin princess?" Wiggles asked, moving yet again closer to your face. You feel the clown paint brushing against your chin, his skin cold. "How bout I teach you a lil lesson before we part ey?" Wiggles said, still grinning madly. He grabbed your jaw tight and you could feel his fingernails digging into your skin. Tears started running down your face as you could felt cold steel against your throat. Wiggles body was still pressing you up against the wall; you had no way of escaping. The clown began to giggle.

"You know, I really fucking hate kids like you, always thinkin you some kind of big shot. Always treatin Wiggles like shit." He said in almost a whisper while his nary lips scratched your cheek. He jerked your head around and pressed his rasping lips against yours. The clown paint had a sweet, chemical taste to it. He pulled away quickly. Wiggles eyes were wide open and you met the gaze of his eyes. They were kind eyes, eyes that didn't, that simply couldn't belong to someone like Wiggles. A single tear fell down the clowns face as you felt the cold, naked steel carve its way through your throat, cutting every single muscle, artery and vain as it was nothing more than air. The tear left a trail of black face-paint down Wiggles cheek. Your lifeless body fell heavily down onto the frozen concrete. The clown's mad laughter cut through the darkness and silence.

"Why did you do that? She was scared; she hadn't done anything to you!" The laughter continued.

"I haven't got a heart pal."


End file.
